


The Places We Call Home

by innerglow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, First Time, M/M, Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 18:25:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innerglow/pseuds/innerglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Sam's 18th Birthday and he thinks everyone's forgotten it--most importantly Dean. But Dean gives Sam the best gift he could ask for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Places We Call Home

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.

Sam’s 18th Birthday was forgotten. Not just forgotten by their Dad, which was nothing new. But Dean had forgotten, too. Or at least that’s what Sam had come to think.  

"Going to bed, Sam?" Dean questioned as Sam flung his duffle bag from his bed and pulled back the covers. “It’s a bit early, don’t you think?" The clock declaring it was only six.

"I’m tired." The answer was short, but there was a level of annoyance in the tone that Dean noted. “Just leave me alone, alright?" Sam mumbled as he kicked off his shoes and shoved them under the bed.

Dean looked over at their Father who was skimming a newspaper for a possible hunt and sighed. He had been waiting for him to leave, but as the night closed in—it seemed he was going to stay. He looked back over at Sam and stood up. “Wanna walk with me to the corner store?"

Sam was just climbing into the bed when Dean’s words stilled him. He wanted to whip his head around and scream a string full of how-could-you’s, but he bit his tongue instead.

"C’mon, Sammy— please?" Dean asked and there was something in that question that made Sam’s insides buzz. He looked at Dean and his eyes were filled with something he couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Fine," Sam announced into the stiff hotel air. “But we’re driving, it’s too hot out for walking."

Dean smiled and dug his hand into his pocket for the keys to the impala. 

**

 

They had passed the corner store and had somehow found themselves out on a dark stretch of road out in the middle of nowhere. Sam had questioned where they were going, but Dean couldn’t answer—because he honestly had no idea himself. Finally, though, they came up on an old abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It was dark. It was quiet. And they wouldn’t be bothered there.

Dean turned the car off and sat motionless as he stared through the windshield. He was thinking about something, that much Sam knew. He didn’t bother to ask what, because he was still pissed about his birthday. 

"I didn’t forget." Dean spoke and it was a declaration and also an how-dare-you-think-that accusation. Sam swallowed and rubbed his palms on his jeans, somehow nervous to look at his Brother. “I would never forget." Dean reaffirmed and turned his head so he could sink his green orbs into Sam’s summer-colored ones. "Ever."

"I didn’t want to think that, Dean, but—" Sam managed around a lump in his throat. A lump consisting of all the anger he had been holding onto and of having second guessed Dean’s priorities. “There are no but’s, Sammy— none." Dean said as he shifted and turned to face Sam. “I was just waiting for Dad to leave, but then—but then, he didn’t."

"Why were you waiting for Dad to leave?" It was a delicate whisper and it was full to the brim with additional questions. Dean just laughed and reached over and laid his hand on Sam’s knee. “Because." It was all he could get out. The because-I-wanted-to-give-you-me refusing to dislodge from his lips.

Dean reached behind the front seat and grabbed a box wrapped in old comics (just like tradition would have it) and held it out to Sam. They looked into each other’s eyes for a second and then Dean shifted it closer to Sam, giving him no option but to accept it. “You didn’t have to give me anything." Sam said, just like he did every year. And Dean replied, like he did every year, “I wanted to."

Sam tore into the old newspaper and uncovered a Fedex box. He wrinkled his nose as he thought about what the heck could be inside and when nothing came to him, he opened up the flap-folded top. Once he fished through the sports and then the weather section, he finally reached it. And ‘it’ was soft and warm.

"Gonna share with the classroom, or?" Dean pushed, just like he always did. Sam was always the careful gift opener, contrary to Dean who barely blinked as he ripped the wrapping paper off.

Sam reached in with both hands and retrieved a red sweatshirt. He unfolded it—holding it up and he couldn’t help it as his eyes welled with tears. “Dean—" He tried, but his voice betrayed him and cracked with emotion.

"You got in, Sammy." Dean smiled and it was an I-just-won-a-million-bucks kind of smile and it was all Sam’s. “Your acceptance letter is in there, too.” Dean said as he motioned towards the box.

A look of disbelief flashed across Sam’s face as he looked back at the sweatshirt and reread ‘Stanford’ again and again—and again. The tears made their great escape and trailed down his face. They didn’t get far, though, before Dean’s thumb was collecting them tenderly. “Don’t cry, Sam.” Dean whispered and he was so close, Sam could feel his breath on his cheek.

“No—no, I’m happy…” Sam said as he pulled the sweatshirt close to him and smiled. “I just didn’t think I was,” He said as he picked at the hoods drawstring. “Didn’t think I could go.” Sam finished and looked over at his Brother, questions filling his eyes once again.

“If I’m being honest,” Dean treaded carefully. “I don’t want you to go.” He watched Sam’s face carefully as the words filled the space between them. He dragged the back of his hand ever so lightly over Sam’s cheek and let it come to rest on his neck. “But that’s only because I’ll miss you.”

“I don’t have—” Sam started but was cut off by his Brother’s body leaning into his. Dean stared into Sam’s eyes, just inches apart and cupped his face with his left hand. “Yes, you do.” Dean said and it was soaked in a variety of emotions.

Sam dropped his eyes and leaned into Dean’s hand and they stayed like that for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s company. “I wanted to give you something else, something we’ve both been wanting—” Dean broke the silence and slowly pulled Sam’s lips onto his. Their lips, like two matchsticks—igniting when they touched.  And Sam’s hands were at the back of Dean’s neck—pulling him closer, deepening their kiss.

Dean’s insides roared with want and of desperate need. And from the way Sam’s fingers knotted themselves in the baby hairs on Dean’s neck, he was right there with him. Suddenly it felt like the first time they had kissed, when Sam was 15—in the back of the impala. Dean remembered the pink blush that heated Sam’s cheeks that night; remembered how kissing Sam filled holes in him he didn’t even know existed.

Dean also thought of all those times when things almost dared to cross the line—going fastly from just kissing to removing entire articles of clothing.  And those moment’s were so impassioned, both of them so lost in each other, that they could barely comprehend their own independent thoughts. And it would have been so easy, so many of those times, to cross the line—to let each other have it all. Dean would always find the will (fuck, it was hard) to stop, much to Sam’s displeasure (and also his own). And he always found himself telling his Brother, “We need to wait, Sam.”

‘But not tonight. There’s no more waiting—no more denying each other’s touches.’ Dean thought as he pressed against Sam with need.

They kissed, their tongues dancing and their lips melting into one another. And as they kissed, they lost themselves and all that was left was their Brother—their soulmate—the love of their life.

**

“You ready, Sammy?” Dean questioned as he hovered above his naked Brother. Sam’s legs were spread as far as the back seat of the impala would allow and the head of Dean’s lubed cock was pressed against Sam. Both of them were ready to lose it just from that pressure alone. “Dean, please—I need you.” Sam called, his fingers clawing at Dean’s sides and it was the only thing Dean needed to hear.

“Fuck—” Dean moaned as he pressed in and felt the warmth of Sam surround just his head. It sent a mind numbing electric current of hunger through his body and he pressed in further. “Dean…” Sam gasped, his eyes full of lust as Dean filled him completely. Dean let his body rest on top of Sam’s as he sank his lips against his Brother’s.  And they stayed still like this, just getting used to being so completely tangled together, as they kissed.

And then Dean started to move, slowly at first and then quickly as he pulled at Sam’s hair and bit at his neck—trying to sate a hunger he’s had for as long as he could remember. “Oh god, Dean—I think I’m gonna…” Sam said breathlessly as he dug his fingers into Dean’s bare ass, pulling him closer—deeper.  “Think I’m gonna come.” Sam’s hips bucked as he felt his insides start to shake with the oncoming orgasm.

“Sam, Sam, Sammy…oh, god—” Dean chanted as he thrusted harder and more desperately. They clawed and pulled at each other, bucking and thrusting, and then they were flying over the edge together. Dean pulled out and spilled his come onto Sam’s stomach, it landing on top of Sam’s own come. Their seeds mixing and combining on Sam’s torso and the sight had Dean gasping for breath and tears brimming his eyelids. It was beautiful. Sam was beautiful. This moment was beautiful.

Sam dragged his fingers through their come and put it into his mouth. He sucked on his fingers and closed his eyes as a moan rumbled in his throat. Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam’s wrist and pulled his fingers away from his mouth. He used Sam’s fingers like a paintbrush and swirled them in their come. Once coated, he lifted Sam’s fingers to his own mouth and sucked off their mixed juices. “Tastes so good, Sammy.” And they continued until there was nothing left to taste.

**

The sunlight bled into the backseat and warmed their exposed skin. They had fallen asleep, tucked against each other in the back seat, just like they had when they were kids. And even though the cramped space, they both woke with smiles tracing happily across their lips. Dean tightened his arms around his Brother and nestled his face into Sam’s hair. He sighed as the scent of peppermint and lemons filled his nose. It was Sam, that smell—everything he loved and he never wanted to forget how wonderful it smells. Because it smells like home. Because Sammy ishis home.

Sam turned over carefully, so he could face his Brother—lying his head on the crook of Dean’s arm. “I’ll miss you, too.” He said, remembering what his Brother had said the night before. And he knew with every fiber of his being that it was going to be harder for Dean, than it would be for him. Dean would be stuck with their Father and they both knew how poisonous that could be.

“I know, Sammy.” Dean said, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. “I’ll be ok,” He started and then stopped, because he knew that was a lie. He knew that with Sam gone, things wouldn’t be ok. Knew that an emptiness in his stomach, a place Sam’s absence would hallow—would threaten to eat him alive. But he also knew that Sam deserved to go. Deserved to have this one thing. And Dean was going to do everything in his power to see that it happened, despite how their Father may look down upon it. “It’ll be hard, but I’ll be ok.” He finally finished.

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean and pulled him closer, knowing this moment was bound to end sooner than later and he refused to face the reality of it.


End file.
